


sometimes i'm peachy and sometimes i'm vulgar

by shockvaluecola



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Intercrural Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mosaic Timeline (The Magicians: A Life in the Day), Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockvaluecola/pseuds/shockvaluecola
Summary: "You should really put on real pants to do this." He reached out and groped Quentin's ass."Would that actually stop you?" Quentin asked, stretching his back up into cat pose.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 24
Kudos: 86





	sometimes i'm peachy and sometimes i'm vulgar

**Author's Note:**

> So there's this instagram post with Jason Ralph doing some slutty yoga and his thighs are an assassination attempt on me, personally. So this happened.
> 
> Please enjoy this with me: https://www.instagram.com/p/B9xZ8zQlTzl/?igshid=c3iun1vzzywa 
> 
> Thank you to IrreverentFangirl, nicolesolo, and redtoblack for the beta! Title is from, naturally, “Yoga” by Janelle Monae.

When Eliot taught Quentin some basic yoga, it had been in what he sort of loosely thought of as the second stage of the mosaic -- stage one had been the first couple of weeks, when they still believed this might be, like, vacation-length. The second stage had been from about three weeks to six months, when they'd realized they could be in this for the long haul and there were about a million problems with that. Skills they didn't have, spells they didn't know, things they needed and lacked here in Past Fillory. The yoga had been one more feeble attempt to keep Quentin's mental health stable. Eliot had been as shocked as anyone when it had, like, worked.

Kind of. Yoga was not an antidepressant, but it at least seemed to get Quentin out of his head and into his body for a while, giving him a break from intrusive thoughts and mood swings. It gave him a small measure of control over his brain, especially when he did it regularly. It wasn't a cure, but some days Eliot would watch him walk off into the grass in the middle of working to drop into warrior pose, and he hadn't had a major episode so far. Eliot was crossing everything that if and when an episode did come, the yoga would still help.

Of course, that meant that every morning, Eliot walked outside and was fucking bedeviled by Quentin in his little Fillorian sleep shorts, no shirt in the warm summer shade, eyes closed as he stretched into cow pose. He knew he should just stand here and be glad that something was working for Quentin, but those thighs looked absolutely outrageous, and they'd been fucking for four months now, so surely he was allowed to look. Maybe to comment. Perhaps to touch.

"Hi baby," was how Eliot announced his presence, approaching Quentin from behind and casually plopping down to his knees in the grass. "You should really put on real pants to do this." He reached out and groped Quentin's ass.

"Would that actually stop you?" Quentin asked, tone dry as he stretched his back up into cat pose. To his credit, he didn't seem especially surprised or upset about being suddenly groped.

"Hmmm. No," Eliot said, palming himself through his own sleep pants. "Pretty sure I'd still know what your thighs looked like whether they're covered or not."

"I sure hope so, or I'd have some concerns about your memory." Despite the show of being unimpressed, Quentin was stretching into cow again way sooner than he should be, sticking his ass out at Eliot on purpose. Eliot gave it a smack, for the sass, and did not miss how Quentin inhaled sharply.

Satisfied, he gave it another hit, harder this time, and a sound escaped Quentin's prettily arched throat. He hooked his fingers in the drawstring waist of his boy's drawers and tugged them down, exposing him.

"Eliot, anyone could walk by!" Quentin protested in a whisper.

"Say stop and I'll stop," Eliot said, pulling the string on his own pants and kneeing up behind Quentin, having to push them down past his mostly-hard cock.

"Asshole," Quentin breathed out.

Eliot grinned wide and did a tut to produce a palmful of lube. Not his favorite for anal sex, but, well, that was obviously what Quentin was expecting to happen, so obviously he had a different plan. He slicked it over himself and nudged up between Quentin's deliciously furry thighs.

"Legs together, baby," he prompted. Quentin obeyed without questioning it, and Eliot sighed happily at the warm hug around his cock. He rocked his hips, slow at first, testing it out and making sure he wasn't going to knock one of them off-balance, then picking it up a little.

"Oh my god," Quentin murmured, realizing what Eliot was up to.

"Mmm," Eliot agreed. "Maybe next time you won't sass so much when Daddy compliments you."

Quentin let out a whine, but he wasn't telling Eliot to stop and he was being good, pressing his thighs together like he’d been told. Eliot grabbed his cheeks with both hands and spread him, looking down at that pretty pink hole, twitching a little at the exposure to cool air. Eliot licked his thumb, then rubbed it over the entrance, making Quentin whine again and push back.

Eliot took his thumb away as quick as it had come, sighing. "Tighter, baby, don't slack off. Cross your ankles." He could feel the shift as Quentin obeyed, and grunted softly. "That's good, baby, that's so good."

"Is this all you're gonna do?" Quentin asked, sounding half-panicked.

"Mmm, depends how good you are for me," Eliot said, and he could practically see the determined look settling onto his boy's features. He chuckled. "Are you hard for me, baby boy?"

" _Yes_ ," Quentin said, loud enough to startle a bird from a tree, and Eliot laughed softly.

"Shhh, you don't want someone to hear you being so slutty for me, do you? Letting me fuck your pretty thighs, no pleasure for you, just so eager to please, fuck, baby. Bet you wish I'd touch your pretty little cock, huh?"

Quentin shivered, like he always did when Eliot dropped that last bit. Eliot pulled him up by the shoulder, so he was kneeling and his back was pressed to Eliot's front. Eliot gave a couple long, slow thrusts to get used to the new angle and balance, chin hooked over Quentin's shoulder so he could see Quentin's hard cock, watch his own dick appear and disappear underneath it. Quentin was looking too, and let out another needy sound.

"Shhhh," Eliot murmured, pressing his lips to the side of Quentin's head. "That looks so pretty, baby, doesn't it, your hard little cock so needy to be touched, I bet you'd come in Daddy's hand so fast, huh? Good boy, good boy, let me use you," Eliot panted in his ear, hips starting to stutter up against Quentin's perfect ass.

Quentin reached down, curving his hand under Eliot's cock as it thrust forward, keeping pressure all the way through the thrust and not just between his thighs. Eliot grunted low as he spilled over Quentin's hand and thighs, decorating all that pretty, soft hair with white. Eliot sighed and pulled back, running his hands down Quentin's sides and giving him a little room to untangle and find his balance on his own. Quentin twisted so he was sitting on the grass in front of Eliot, sleep shorts still around his knees, cock standing needy and proud between his legs and come all over his thighs.

"Aren't you gonna make me come?"

Eliot grinned lazily and bent forward onto his hands to kiss Quentin, long and slow and filthy. When he pulled back, he drew one finger down Quentin's perfect nose and booped it.

"I'll think about it," he whispered.


End file.
